On the blog Good Mom/Bad Mom, Jenny Lawson posts about season-appropriate “children’s” books.

I have to admit, at the risk of revealing myself to be an unimaginative, drudge-like stick-in-the-mud (what does that expression mean, btw? Am I stuck in the mud? Then shouldn’t it be “stuck-in-the-mud”? Or if it’s an actual stick, like from a tree, in the mud, what does that have to do with anything?) (what was I saying?) (oh, yeah), I’m not really all that interested in books about zombies.

I did think that the book “Monsters Eat Whiny Children” looked interesting, if for no other reason than to leave it lying around the house to intimidate piano students who don’t practice enough and come with their excuses polished and ready.

A commenter suggested “Daddy Drinks Because You Cry,” which I thought sounded really funny in a Family-Guy-inappropriate kind of way. (Aside: I love Family Guy, but never got into the habit of watching it because then my sons would watch too and I would have to wrestle with the urge to laugh uproariously over something immensely inappropriate so as not to be a “bad example.”)

But apparently this book doesn’t actually exist. (In the interests of “research,” I checked. I wasn’t going to buy it. I wasn’t!)

Speaking of inappropriate. . .

I commented after Jenny’s post that I thought this book looked kind of whimsical, despite the likelihood that it included some black humor; but that it also reminded me of my grandma in her early 90s.

Then I clicked on the image of the cover, expecting a book about, well, dinosaurs. It is what’s illustrated on the cover after all.

But this is the first page that came up when I clicked on “See all 6 customer images.”

This is some kind of creepy. Like someone has been watching me slowly but systematically killing each and every one of my house plants over the past 15 years, and is sending me not-all-that-coded nor all-that-subtle messages.

(Notice, in the banner, the Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. This is on purpose. And symbolic. I have one plant left in my house, a Zu-Zu, which is reportedly “unkillable.” I believe the exact terms were “thrives under benign neglect.” [Although now that I do a little more research, this is apparently a fallacy. Nice. Thank you, Lowe’s.] Recently 5 of the 8 stalks died. 3 persist, despite the odds. What can I say? It’s a gift. We were, recently and briefly, in the process of adopting a rescued Havanese. I was afraid they were somehow going to research my houseplant history and find me wanting. Despite the fact that my children and pets seem to survive; except for fish, of course.)

ANYWAY

The next four pages of the book go like this: (I’m guessing in sequence, although I might be making assumptions [it wouldn’t be the first time]. If it’s not the sequence found in the book, it should be.)

I know, I know, this should be sad. I remember my grandma saying how alone she was. It was really, really sad. It was.

But it’s just funny to me. Maybe because it shouldn’t be. Or maybe I’m just hopeless.

Me, to Husband: “Is there something wrong with me that I thinks this is so funny?”

4 Responses to “i might have to buy this book, or make an appointment with a psychiatrist”

No, they gave him to the first person to apply for him (we were second). We’re a little sad, but it’s a really busy couple of weeks, so adjusting to a new dog right now might have been a little crazy. Still on the lookout, for a Havanese or a poodle.